


where we run to under the sun

by livtontea



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, F/F, Gen, Getting Together, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pararibulitis (Dirk Gently), Post-Canon, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-07
Updated: 2020-01-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:39:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,500
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22164193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/livtontea/pseuds/livtontea
Summary: If there’s one thing Amanda hates more than anything, it’s winter.Well, she doesn’thateit, not all the time. But it’s definitely her least favorite season. And she doesn’t like it. At all.If this were anybody else speaking, the reason would probably be something like the snow. Or the frozen ice on the roads. The seasonal depression, the cold and suffocating atmosphere, hell, maybe the holidays if they’re a stick in the mud. But this is Amanda Brotzman. And her reasons are more… specific.
Relationships: Amanda Brotzman & The Rowdy 3, Farah Black/Amanda Brotzman
Comments: 12
Kudos: 18





	1. frost

**Author's Note:**

> hello hello! this is my first work in this fandom, and people who know me know i love to explore gory things which in this case includes pararibulitis! so that's a warning for amanda having attacks.
> 
> this was inspired by that one 2020 prompt list on tumblr if you've seen it, [here it is if you haven't.](https://lavenderferns.tumblr.com/post/190065053641/2020-prompt-list) i didn't really think of anything for january's prompts so i decided to lump them all in together! which means with luck, i'll update around weekly. if i can get this to work and i like it i'll probably do something similar with the rest
> 
> without further ado, enjoy!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> amanda has a pararibulitis attack in this chapter and it gets pretty graphic, so here's your warning! stay safe

If there’s one thing Amanda hates more than anything, it’s winter.

Well, she doesn’t _hate_ it, not all the time. But it’s definitely her least favorite season. And she doesn’t like it. At all.

If this were anybody else speaking, the reason would probably be something like the snow. Or the frozen ice on the roads. The seasonal depression, the cold and suffocating atmosphere, hell, maybe the holidays if they’re a stick in the mud. But this is Amanda Brotzman. And her reasons are more… specific.

Not that she _likes_ seasonal depression. Or any of the other things. Except for the holidays. Fuck people who don’t like the holidays, Amanda thinks it’s quite punk of her to enjoy things and not give a damn if somebody doesn’t. Christmas cheer and whatever doesn’t make winter much more bearable, though.

See, in Amanda’s case, it’s the influx of cold-related pararibulitis attacks.

It makes sense that there’d be more, obviously, but she hates winter attacks with a severe and undying passion. It’s not like there’s a ton of snow in Seattle, but when you’re on the road almost all the time, you’re not always in Seattle. Even a thin layer of snow on the ground is a stimulus, which can lead to fun things like limbs being frozen off, being covered in snow and suffocating on that shit, or even just really strong fucking cold.

In Wendimoor it was easier, because she could make pararibulitis her bitch. Here on earth? Not so much.

It’s also really fucking crappy because it gets even _harder_ to tell the difference between reality and an attack. When she’s being pelted by icicles in the middle of June, it’s a little easier to think “Oh! I’m having an attack! I knew that, of course, but now that this is so clearly _not_ what’s going on in the real world, it’s kind of easier to wait it out! Hell, maybe it’ll even pass _faster!_ Great!”

When everything is covered in snow, and her fingers are going blue, frostbite slowly but surely spreading across her skin, it’s a little harder to think that. And by a little harder she means a _lot_ harder. It’s also not as clear when an attack is coming on. Some of her worst attacks happened in winter.

She remembers one of them from when she was still pretty new to the whole “chronic nerve disease that sends you into fits of intense and very vivid pain” thing. They, and by they she means herself and Todd, were messing around by the porch. Inside, of course—going out at the time was inconceivable.

The door was thrown open somehow, and a rush of cold air flooded inside the house. Todd closed it almost instantly, but, well. Too late. Even though the temperature evened out quickly enough, Amanda kept shivering. And then her legs gave out, because her wonderful brain decided to interpret that as literal ice water. And seriously, feeling like your legs are freezing off as you drown in a frozen lake is not a pleasant experience.

Another one was when the boiler broke, and she could only shower with cold water. Icicles. Like tiny little needles raining down on her and stabbing deeper and deeper into her flesh.

She’d almost drowned. Like, for real. Amanda hasn’t been able to look at her shower the same way since, which kind of sucked, because she still needed to wash herself.

Some of her winter attacks though? Just plain stupid. Like being stabbed through the stomach by a massive (and very sharp) candy cane? Who thinks of this shit? What the fuck. Not fun, not fun at all.

So, while her current attack doesn’t even come close to any of those shitshows, it is _extremely_ unpleasant and _very_ painful. Which, great! Fan-fucking-tastic!

Stupid nerves. She misses Wendimoor sometimes. At least there she could probably summon, like, a snow blizzard or something, not watch in horror as frost starts crawling up her arms.

Amanda shakes her hands. The frost, naturally, doesn’t come off, but what it _does_ do it strengthen. By like, a lot. There’s maybe a layer of what is now ice on her arms about an inch thick? And it is _cold._

"Fuck," is what she tries to say, but it comes out more like a weak whimper. The ice cracks as it climbs higher.

Logically, she knows that it’s not helping when she waves her arms around. Realistically, she’s freaking out, and doesn’t have time for silly things like logic. Amanda flaps her hands again, and watches in horror as the ice cracks louder. This time, small ice spikes flick out of the general mass and dig into her skin.

Amanda screams. God, it _hurts._ Her hands are enclosed in fucking _torture ice mittens_ , so she can’t even clutch them to her chest and curl in on herself to wait it out. Not like she’d want to. She’s punk, she’s ill, she knows that this is going to pass and hopefully not kill her. Amanda is _punk_ and _strong_ and _badass_ and she can _do this._

 _“Oh my god I can’t do this.”_ Her wail of pain isn’t unprompted, because the spikes make one ear splitting _snap_ and shoot straight through her arms. She’s shivering. Amanda screams again as the hot blood drips down her arms.

"Boss!"

Then there are hands on her shoulders, sending more ice across her skin. Amanda's screaming grows louder. The hands remove themselves as quick as they came on, jerking away like they were burned. Which is stupid, because there's nothing but frigid ice. "Right! No touching! Sorry!"

Oh god. Everything is so painful. The blood trickling down and dripping into the snow is leaving red splatters on a backdrop of white. It's flowing freely across the ice, leaving behind messy trails of pink.

"Guys? Boss needs help!"

Heavy footsteps surround her. Amanda can't focus on who these people are, doesn't know what they're going to do. There's just the ice, and the blood, and the screaming agony pumping through her body.

"Come on, boys! Get to it. Lunch time."

Amanda drops to her knees. She hasn't stopped screaming. The ice is crawling up her neck, rings of frost growing tighter and tighter, cutting off her breathing and wringing the blood from her body, cutting her up. And it's freezing. It's so, so, fucking _cold._ She feels like she's losing herself in the hellish crystalline water. It's engulfing her until she can barely think—

Suddenly she sees blue. Amanda can breathe again. The ice melts away from her flesh, leaving unmarred skin behind. “Boss? You okay?”

Amanda sinks to her knees. The snow on the ground chills her skin through her ripped jeans. Amanda’s heart is palpitating and she’s breathing heavily—all expected after an attack. Her vision swims as she tries to catch her breath, faces and shapes and colors dancing in front of her eyes.

She can finally breathe again.

Amanda takes a hand that turns out to be Gripps’ and uses it to pull herself up off the ground. The Rowdies and Beast are standing around her, looking at her, curious and concerned.

“You all good, Drummer?” Martin pushes his glasses up with a ringed finger.

“Did ya see anythin’ in your screwy shit brain this time, Boss?” Vogel pipes up from next to him.

“You looked spooked!”

“No shit, Cross.”

“Well she _did!”_

Beast babbles in a concerned tone.

"I'm fine," says Amanda. "It's all good, don't worry about it. Yeah, I saw… I don't know. This one was weird."

"No new place?"

Amanda thinks it over. There wasn't a new destination in her vision. But… she hasn't seen any of the others in a while, and, honestly? She misses Dirk and Farah, and even _Todd_. The Rowdies won't mind turning around, she's sure. She smiles despite the aftereffects of the attack sending shivers down her spine.

"No new place. But," she says. "I think it's time we pay Seattle a visit."

Vogel cheers. Beast giggles gleefully and jumps up and down, rainbow hair tossing around her head with the movement. Gripps and Cross perform a convoluted handshake, and Martin grins. His glasses glint in the cold winter sun. 

“Whatever you say, drummergirl.”

Amanda punches his shoulder playfully as she walks past him and climbs into the back of the van. It's not long before clamoring Rowdies get in after her, yelling and banging on the side of the van as they get in. Amanda grins. Beast settles on the floor next to her, rambling on as she begins messing with Amanda's hair.

It's going to be a long trip. And that's not necessarily a bad thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and that's that! i hope you liked this chapter, stick around until next week for chapter 2! thanks for reading! <3


	2. juniper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fair warning, i literally have no idea what juniper is. i had to look it up. i'm still not 100% sure i know what it actually is

After breaking into her brother’s apartment—although she’d like to think of it as “discreetly entering” and not climbing in through the window (which for some reason made Todd snort and Dirk—who apparently lives in Todd’s apartment now, which is _very_ interesting and she’ll have to investigate that later—look away and flush)—Amanda decides now would be a good time to catch up with Farah. She’s alone in the apartment, anyway, and it’s _boring._ The Rowdies are out and about, having left her behind to not intrude and possibly forget the no-smashing rules active in Todd’s apartment.

It all ends up being very convenient, really, because just as Amanda’s about to lift herself up from where she was sprawled across the couch and go try to find the woman, the myth, the legend, there’s a knock on the door and Farah walks in. Naturally, she’s accompanied by Amanda’s heart giving a little flutter.

“Oh,” she says, surprised. “Amanda! I didn’t know you’d be here. It’s nice to see you.”

“Thanks,” replies Amanda. “You too.” And after a moment of thought, “Why’d you knock on the door if you just walked in anyways? _How_ did you just walk in?”

“Because it's polite. And I have a key.” Farah lifts up her hand, in which is indeed, a keyring. Then she says, “Well, a couple of keys, actually, but this one’s the one I keep with me to unlock the door. The others are for when Dirk loses his and then borrows Todd’s, and then probably loses those too. It’s easier to keep copies around and copy those to get new keys than constantly replacing the locks.”

Amanda raises her eyebrows, impressed. “How many keys has Dirk lost?”

“Well, uh,” Farah says as she pockets the keyring. “I think it’s somewhere around seventeen right now? But it’s probably more because I only started keeping track after he’d lost about four. And then sometimes the keys get like, stolen, or lost in a case which I’m not counting.” She clears her throat. “A lot. He’s lost a lot.”

Amanda whistles. “Impressive.”

“Tiresome,” corrects her Farah. "Mind if I sit?"

"Go ahead." Amanda sits up to make room for Farah, and the woman in question lowers herself down next to her.

“So… how are things?”

“Oh, you know,” says Amanda. “Driving around, smashing things, having a good time. Beast’s doing great. We’re trying to teach her words, she’s really smart, just talks like… well, you know. Things are good.”

“That’s good. I’m glad you’re having fun.”

Amanda laughs and props her chin up with her hand. She looks up at Farah with a grin. “And what have _you_ been up to?”

“Oh,” says Farah, copying Amanda’s tone. “you know. Running around, trying to make sure nobody gets shot, or killed. Todd and Dirk are driving me crazy with their dancing around.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Farah leans forward, and Amanda knows that no matter how badass and strong she is, at heart Farah’s always going to be just a little bit nosy. And a good friend. And just generally really cool, and anxiety-prone—which maybe isn’t the best thing, but it’s so _Farah_ —and nice, and… she’s cutting herself off there.

Unlike Todd, Amanda is self-aware enough to know when she’s got a crush. Fuck, saying it like that makes it seem like she’s a little kid. Point is, Amanda knows she likes Farah, but does she have to be so _sappy_ about it?

“They’re so oblivious, it _hurts,_ ” says Farah.

“I know exactly what you mean,” Amanda says seriously. “It’s tragic. They’re never going to admit their feelings, and then they’ll die of emotional overload. How sad.”

Farah snorts. “Imagine if they’re listening in right now.”

“They’re not. They went out to do something, I don’t know. I think it might’ve been about Kitten?”

Farah nods. “They probably went out to walk her, then.”

Amanda snorts. “They take their cat on walks? Why?”

“Well,” Farah says, “in their defense, she isn’t _just_ a cat. If she stays locked up too long, she might, you know—” Farah mimes an explosion, and bares her teeth, which is scarily good at getting her point across. “—get too big.” It’s almost comically underwhelming, the way her tone falls on the last words compared to her kitten-shark impression.

“...I guess that makes sense.”

Farah laughs. “Yeah. You’re right though, it is kind of dumb. Dirk insisted on her harness being obnoxiously orange.”

Amanda takes a second to appreciate Farah’s smile, and then says, “Yep, that sounds like Dirk. Glad to know nothing’s changed.”

“I’m glad you’re here.”

Farah still has a slight smile on her face, and Amanda’s heart is beating a little bit too fast in her chest. _Fuck._ She smiles back. God, Farah is just so _cool._ No wonder Amanda—who has always had a weakness for kickass ladies who could probably (or in Farah’s case, almost definitely) bench press her—has a crush on her.

They lapse into a comfortable silence. Farah is fiddling with her hands next to Amanda, while Amanda herself is trying to act carefree and uninterested.

When Farah speaks, her voice is forceful, but not in a harsh way. “Do you want to hang out?”

Amanda has to laugh at that. She doesn’t think she’s heard an adult use “hang out” since her highschool art teacher. Mr. Trace had been… something.

“Of course,” she says. “Let’s hang out.”

“Well, I was thinking we could go outside maybe? It’s—” Farah bites her lip. “Amanda, Todd’s apartment is so… _dirty._ ”

“You are absolutely right.” Amanda stands up, offering Farah her hand, and very much not letting her eyes widen in slight surprise when she takes it and pulls herself up. “Let’s go outside.”

 _Outside_ ends up being _walking around in a park_ , just her and Farah. It’s late in the day, the winter sun glittering on the snow from above. Amanda pops a pill into her mouth—not her prescribed dosage, but she won’t need the full amount with the Rowdies. She hasn’t been taking her meds at all, really, knowing that the four psychic-but-not vampires are there to alleviate the pain. But with them somewhere not here, and with the freshly fallen snow, and Farah walking by her side, hands in her pockets—it’s safer this way.

Amanda wrinkles her nose at the dry pill getting stuck in her throat. It’s been years, and she still can’t quite get used to dry-swallowing things.

“You okay?”

“Yep,” Amanda says, popping the ‘p’ and putting the capped bottle back into her pocket. Todd gave her a new one before running off with Dirk, saying that he was consistently picking up both of their meds at the pharmacy—as usual. “Tip-top.”

There are bushes of juniper lining the little stone path they’re walking down. It’s narrow, narrow enough Farah and Amanda’s hands are almost brushing together with each step. Almost. 

She thinks she’d really like to kiss her right now.

Amanda mentally slaps herself. Now is _not_ the time for fantasizing about making out with one of her best friends. 

“Amanda.”

“Yeah? What?”

Farah snorts. “I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last twenty seconds.”

“...Sorry. Sorry, sorry, I got distracted.” And then out of nowhere, “It’s a nice day.”

The snow is white under their shoes. Trees are lined with lights, still not taken down after the holiday season. A couple notes of “Winter Wonderland” sound in Amanda’s head. It is like that, a little bit. The crisp air tickles the inside of her nose.

“It is,” agrees Farah. “We haven’t had one this not-rainy for… a while.”

Amanda snorts. “I’ll bet.”

Farah’s hands look very holdable right now. Amanda would love to reach over and slip their fingers together, but she doesn’t. She doesn’t.

They keep walking. A bird flits from tree to tree, almost like it’s following them. It chirps, and another one responds moments later. It’s nice. Nice enough Amanda’s sad little gay heart almost can’t take it.

Farah’s fingers brush Amanda’s, and she _knows_ how aware Farah is of her limbs. She lets herself wonder what it would be like if it were on purpose.

The juniper glitters with frozen dew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah... dare i say, gay rights.
> 
> sorry for the abrupt cutoff, but i did a dumb thing and started like. 5 other wips. so i'm trying my best lmao. thanks for reading! <3


	3. Baked goods

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is much shorter because im currently working on multiple gifts, sorry about that! hopefully i can manage to make the next chapter make up for it c:

Amanda watches Todd nearly douse himself in hot coffee after getting distracted by Dirk, and thinks, she _cannot_ let herself get to that point. She’ll leave the awkward floundering and near-injuries to her brother, thanks. 

That really leaves only one option, which is confessing. And that’s fine, because Amanda knows that if Farah doesn’t feel the same way, they’ll still be friends. Her saying no wouldn’t be a huge thing, and Amanda would get over it eventually. But…

“What if she says _yes?”_

Tina snorts on the other end of the line. _“If?”_

“Yes, _if,”_ says Amanda. “It’s kind of way scarier than her saying _no._ And she’s probably gonna say no.”

 _“Amanda, have we been looking at the same Farah? Like, you didn’t swap our Farah Black for some other one, right? One that_ isn’t _wildly attracted to you?”_

“I call bullshit,” Amanda says. “There’s no way.”

 _“Ah,”_ Tina says, and Amanda can almost picture her nodding in mock sympathy _. “So you’re in denial.”_

“I am not! There’s nothing to deny, it’s just way more likely for her to turn me down than for her to say yes.” Which is a frightening possibility. Because Amanda, despite her words, knows that it isn’t as unlikely as she’s making it out to be. But it’s _scary,_ okay? Amanda is punk, and punk people are allowed to be afraid of things like _feelings_ and _crushes_ and general emotions.

She sighs. “Look, suppose she _does_ say yes—”

_“She will.”_

“—what am I supposed to do then? I have no idea how to take a girl on a date, the last time I did that I was in like, _highschool._ ”

Tina whistles. _“Damn. How long were you a hermit, exactly?”_

“I wasn’t a hermit.” Tina snorts, and Amanda rolls her eyes in undeniable fondness. Tina is a bit of a wackjob—then again, they all are—but she’s her friend. “Okay, maybe I was. But only a little bit.”

 _“Self-acceptance is not your enemy here, ‘Manda,”_ says Tina. _“Don’t be like Todd.”_

“I guarantee you I won’t be like Todd.”

 _“Good!”_ and then, _“Todd needs to get his shit together. Have you_ seen _the way he gets around Dirk? And vice versa, I literally don’t know how they don’t know they like each other.”_

“Yeah… I knew it was bad, but, Tina. It is _so_ much worse in person.”

_“Oh god.”_

“Yeah,” says Amanda. “Oh god, indeed.” She realizes they’re getting sidetracked and shakes her head to get her head back in the metaphorical game. “Tina, as much as I’d love to bitch about my loser brother and his not actually unrequited love life, can we raincheck on that? Because I seriously don’t know how to do this without chickening out.”

 _“You’re not gonna chicken out! You’re too cool for that! Too punk. Sorry, Amanda, but there is no way you aren’t doing this when you’ve made up your mind.”_ Tina sounds completely sure of her words. Amanda grins.

“Thanks. I don’t think I can do it, though.”

_“Hell yeah you can! Come on girl, I believe in you!”_

“Where would she even like to go? I mean, I can’t exactly take her out on a crime scene for a date.”

 _“Yeah, don’t. I mean obviously, don’t do that.”_ Tina performs what is probably the verbal equivalent of a keysmash. _“Okay, okay so, she likes baked things. Coffee shops, something relatively calm? If you take her to some obscure shop? Ten outta ten, it won’t even take long until you’re—_ ”

 _“Okay,_ ” cuts her off Amanda. “No innuendos. Thank you.”

 _“No problem!”_ Somebody calls Tina’s name on the other end of the line, and she covers the receiver to shout something back. With a crackle of static, she’s speaking into Amanda’s ear in a flurry of words. _“Hobbs’ calling me, so I gotta go! Get your girl ‘Manda! And tell me how it goes! Love you, byeeeee!”_

“Later, loser.” Tina laughs, and disconnects the call. Amanda lowers the cellphone from her ear, looking at it, lost in thought.

“Baked goods, huh…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading, i hope you enjoyed!<3

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to leave a comment, i would love to know your thoughts on this! if any authors are reading this, i'm sure you know how meaningful comments are, and readers, I'm sure you know too because authors are constantly telling you. but really! comments mean a lot and all are appreciated <3
> 
> thanks for reading!
> 
> edit as of January 26, 2020: I failed! promptfics like this are not for me, I guess, so this work is not gonna be finished in the nearest... ever, most likely. it's a bit of a learning curve


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